


Salted Violets

by Hessybear



Category: South Park
Genre: Bad Decisions, Cigarettes, Demon Summoning, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Goth Kids (South Park) - Freeform, Grief/Mourning, Magic-Users, Minor Character Death, Satanism, South Park: The Fractured But Whole, Witch Henrietta Biggle, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 23:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20434151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hessybear/pseuds/Hessybear
Summary: In which a Henrietta makes a bad decision, and gets an unexpected ally in return. They help one another move on from the past, and cake is a surprisingly helpful motivator for an unnerving guest.





	Salted Violets

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in a long while, and I think it's sparked my want to write again! It's a really nice creative outlet.

It was nothing but a bout of nostalgia that had her going through the familiar motions, she knew the original holder of the contract was dead, and he had been dead for many years. She felt his death before she had seen him too, the threads that bound them together had frayed and snapped one by one, and she had been left feeling empty and alone. She didn’t have to deal with the aftermath alone, and she was grateful for the others, who were her’s. Their bond was stronger than ever, forged in hardships, tears, and blood.

Sweet, sweet Pete who had the best moral compass out of all of them. Micheal, who loved all of them wholeheartedly, who didn’t ask questions but sat in the room when they couldn’t stand the silence or their thoughts. Stan, their Raven, who she could cry and talk to without feeling judged, who had spread his wings to fly and found a place where he fit. Firkle, their baby, who offered her a distraction when she needed it, and Karen… Karen who came to them seeking knowledge to help her angel and became a near permanent fixture even when things had smoothed out. How she loved them all, with her black, shriveled, little heart.

(She loved too hard and too much, and it would be her end. She adored them all, her family, her anchors, and she would sooner die than harm them. Even if it could be easily repaired. She wouldn’t be able to live after breaking their trust. Their bonds wouldn’t be the same, she just knew it.)

They helped to fill the hole that had grown where her first mentor had been. He’d guided her through the dos and don’t when starting out, had helped her when she had gone in over her head, and even indulged her when she had taken part in the silly games in her childhood. He was more of a parent to her than her own parents had been, especially since she had trusted him with everything--her struggles with her appearance, her crushes on boys surrounded by death and girls who would take over the world. And he helped in whatever ways he could.

She adjusted the pentagram she was going to be using, making sure that the salt circle around it was as perfect as she could make it, lighting pitch candles at each of the points to help the focus. Hell was primarily fire based after all, and she used to summon _ him _ with nothing but flame and the breath of a cigarette. She had a feeling that he had made that shortcut specifically for her, and it only made his loss ache all the more. He’d taken her body’s limits into account so that she could summon him more often, so that she didn't accidentally twist herself while searching for something...

She wasn’t going to attempt to disturb the former fallen angel, he deserved to lay peacefully, much more than anyone else she knew. But… it had been years, and she thought that it would be for the best to do this again now. One last hurrah before she left South Park for college and the memories associated with it. One last call to help her gain that closure, no, that wasn’t right. One last trial… no… She was going to answer the call that she had been ignoring in her grief for way too long. She knew it would be a mistake to let things lie the way they were, she had been given another opportunity and she wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

If things went well--and she hoped that things would go well--then she would witness the opening of a portal that connected this realm and the underworld, a window that she’d be able to see through. No one should be able to enter... with the original holder gone, but on the chance that they could, she was careful to stay with her body planted firmly on the outside. Far enough away that even collapsing face first wouldn’t disturb it. So long as things went smoothly, she wouldn’t have to tell anyone about this, and they wouldn’t worry. She steeled herself with a deep breath and then began to mouth over the words. It wouldn’t do to make a mistake at this point in time, a slip of the tongue and she could end the day as nothing but a bloody smear over her wall.

She had to do this, just to figure out what it was, to see if she was actually being called to action or if it was all in her head due to undealt with grief. Her eyes hardened with determination before she was speaking, tongue heavy as she called the ambient magic in the air to her, asking for help with her task. Watching the portal starting to swirl into existence, swallowing the flickering flames from the candles she lit. The reds and oranges blending together, and the shadows that reflected off of her walls-showing beasts and the outline of the souls who had overstepped their bounds. The room was almost too hot, she felt a bead of sweat make its way down her cheek before it made its way past her throat.

She didn’t stop, even as horns and wings and _ teeth _ reflected in the light, the maw too inhuman-too many teeth that would be perfect to kill whatever was deemed prey. Green eyes went wide as they met bloody red, as a man stepped through the portal-it was supposed to be a window for her to see how had he gotten through. Her hair stood on end as she went over the last words, trying not to panic. This wasn’t supposed to work, especially with the original holder dead. Demons weren’t supposed to be able to pick up the completed contracts of others; no ifs, ands, or buts.

Her thoughts continued to race as he stepped closer to her, his footsteps seeming loud even with all of the background noise from Hell. And then he stopped, his lip curling before he was looking down. She could hear the blood rushing to her head, blocking out any words he might have said… going on instinct she did one of the first things she could think of-which was not the smartest choice she could have gone with-and closed the portal.

She grabbed hold of magic that had been helpful and wrangled it, baking it go against itself as she slammed it shut. There was no telling what else she could almost invite into her bedroom, and she didn’t want to deal with something she wasn’t prepared for.

With the air was still charged from her activities, still frizzing and goosebumps visible over her bare arms, she inhaled sharply. There was the taste of copper coating her tongue, sticking to the roof of her mouth, and her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. A hand to wipe at her nose and came streaked with crimson. Huh. Now to figure out if the blood she tasted was from this, or her accidentally biting herself in the midst. Things had gone fine until she tried to force magic to do something without prep, but she could deal with the consequences later on.

The window was a point of entry into her world, he had taken it, so she now had an unknown, likely high ranking entity in her room, trapped in an easily disruptible circle of salt. Possibly the newer King of Hell, since Hell was a monarchy… and Satan had mentioned having a son who was likely in line…

She was not in any state to be connecting these very obvious dots, but she knew that she wasn’t going to be letting him leave the circle, especially not before she got her answers.

* * *

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but when she could focus on things other than the pounding in her head and how she had crossed lines she should not have crossed in the first place. There was a somewhat feral looking demon boy in a salt circle in the room she was going to be leaving in less than a week. She could solve this. She had to be able to solve this before things got worse. She just couldn’t call any of the other goth kids to help with this, so she was on her own.

So she hadn’t made the best impression when she’d gaped at him and started bleeding. Big fucking deal, it was in the past now and she could do jack shit about it… god she wanted a smoke, stress was reaching a breaking point, but the circle was in the center of her room and they were on the other _ fucking side _ of the demon holding circle. And he was still watching her like she was a particularly interesting specimen caught inside of a glass.

As much as she wanted to bitch about things, she could either perform an acrobatic disaster over her bed in a true Eldritch Underpants stunt, or she could walk straight through the circle and risk dying in what would probably be a brutal mutilation for something as meager as a cigarette. It was so tempting to just walk through, and it wasn’t like seeing her do something stupid would be _ new. _ Doing stupid and borderline suicidal things seem to be a requirement to living another day in their shitty little mountain town. But the benefits didn’t outweigh the risks in this case. She sighed, rubbing at her eyes and taking her hair away from her eyes. Okay. He was here in her room, and it wasn’t like she was planning for any company. But he was there anyway, and she had to sort things out.

“So, you’re the current king of Hell, correct? I… I had this contract with your father, and after he passed I…” refused to touch it and break open the still inflamed wound. “I didn’t want to chance things, and I was going through a lot and I assume you must have been too…” She took in his expression, noticing how he bared his teeth at her and how his wings stretched out further.  
  
The dead father figure was a touchy subject then, alright, she could… probably not avoid that just yet, even with the risk of pissing off her unwilling house guest. But… he was trapped here until she opened a way for him to get back home, and she had to recover before she did that again. “He meant a lot to me, was my first mentor. He’s the one who set up this contract in the first place. Even I don’t know all the ins and outs. So, considering I happen to be your only ticket out of this shithole of a town at this current moment in time, I think it might be the best for us to cooperate.”

Names had power either way, and she wasn’t stupid enough to _ give _ him her name. That would do nothing more than lead her into a world of trouble she’d be unable to claw her way out of. “I’ll lend an olive branch, you may call me Henrietta, or whatever insult you see fit, honestly. I’ve got thick enough skin and at this point in time you’re not that important to me emotionally for it to really hurt.” Was it smart to egg on the man in her room? Absolutely not. Was she still taking that chance? Undoubtedly. Who else got to say they’d poke fun at a demon trapped in their room.

She scooted around the circle, climbing over her bed to get to the other side of the room, and grabbing her half empty pack of cigarettes and smacking it against the palm of her hand. Just had to open a window, and make sure that she was by her ashtray. “Well. do you have anything to say in return? A name to offer? Or should I just call you ‘Ashes?’” She was definitely going with the stupidest nickname she could think off the top of her head. If she could get some sort of information out of him she’d take it.

It usually worked for Kenny… and his furry friend. Annoyance was an amazing interrogation tactic, but it usually worked better when you were dressed as a raccoon and screaming out threats that you may or may not keep. So… she was likely not going to be getting very far, but it would be more interesting than sitting in silence. And this way he’d have a reason to kill her-other than it being her fault that he was now on this plane rather than his own.

Other than a curl of his lip she didn’t seem to be getting much of a reaction. It was a shame, he seemed like he’d be more explosive, and she would have loved to watch him lose it. Things would have been more entertaining if she managed to become a catalyst for that as well… She’d be able to have been the cause of destruction, and she’d be damned if she didn’t admit she’d be able to die happily.

She eyed him a bit longer before moved all things that could disrupt the circle away. It wouldn’t do to have him escape and wreak havoc while she got something to eat and penned in some notes that shouldn’t fall into his hands. Even if he seemed harmless in her circle, she knew better than to give him any advantages.

* * *

When she came back she was holding a tray that had what might have been a cute tea set at one point. The pot was leaning awkwardly when she set it down. The cups had cracks in them, it was unlikely that the sugar dish even had sugar-salt was much more reliable these days, easier to work with. Dishes that were holding small cakes topped white icing and flowers, they looked deceptively sweet, and more like a trap. She hadn’t fucked with the food, but she wasn’t going to tell him that, not when she got more of a reaction at offering him something.

There was honey on small spoons that were sitting in the cups, and it wasn’t hard to see how fast the honey dissolved into the tea she poured. She carefully set a cup and saucer on the inside of the circle, following it with a desert. She didn’t offer any comments, offer any sign that she was doing something… which made her doubly suspicious. How would he react to this gesture? How would he think of her, what was going through his mind… she’d love to pick his brain and figure it out. 

She wanted to know everything he could tell her, everything he would. She wanted to document it, to figure out how some things clicked or how she could make herself better, how she could gain another mentor similar to the one she had lost… Maybe waiting in silence wouldn’t do anything after all. She breathed in the steam from her own tea, looking at him from under her eyelashes.

He knew she wasn’t a demure and proper little lady, but she could play the part… “He taught me how to make them. Satan did, I mean. He was my mentor in many ways, and was a positive adult role model that I hadn’t realized I needed.” So play the part she would. She watched as he slowly moved closer to take what she offered, it seemed that he recognized them too.

“He made them for me on special occasions. When I was sad or too stressed. Never could find the recipe again, so I haven’t had them since he…” He trailed off, picking up the plate before he seemed to really look at her for the first time. It was like he didn’t know what to think of her… which meant there was a possibility that she had unnerved him or gotten him to let his guard down. _ Nice. _

She remained quiet, not pushing for more information but hoping that he would share more anyway. If he got carried away or swept into a tangent then she’d have more to go off of. She took in how his face relaxed and just how soft he seemed when talking about the man who was obviously important to him… and without that sneer he looked about her age-though that wasn’t very telling. He looked like… someone from her childhood, though she couldn’t put her finger on it. Why did he seem so familiar, why was he so close to Satan? That wasn’t a business relationship, as nice as Satan had been. And he had mentioned a son at least once…

“You may call me Damien. He… he spoke of you often, a witchling who needed to learn, who would burn herself into nothing without guidance. It seems he was right, you’re destructive and reckless, with a malfunctioning moral compass and an over the top taste for destruction. You are… absolutely fascinating, Miss Henrietta.” Something about how he spoke, it seemed… staged. Yes, it seemed like he was putting on a front, trying to keep her from seeing _ something _ about himself.

She took in his dark curls, how his fangs didn’t overcrowd his mouth or leave him with a lisp, how bright his eyes were and how she felt her heart nearly stop as she met them. There was definitely something going on around here… she just wasn’t sure what it was.

“Well Damien… we’re going to be here for a little while, I can’t send you back right off the bat, I know my limits better than that.” She kept her eyes on him as she spoke, taking care not to meet him dead on. “And no matter how polite you are,” She gave an almost mocking pause, “I can’t just break the circle and let you out--I don’t know your intentions. And as much as I happen to enjoy chaos and the smell of smoke, I prefer for it to happen on my own terms.” There was a reaction! The way his face twisted and his eyes glowed… it was alluring in a way that a rabid animal was. Feral, but oh so lovely. 

This was a powerful being who could kill her when he pleased, but she was the one holding the cards at this moment in time, the power she held… she never wanted to give it up! She knew she’d have to though. She couldn’t keep him trapped in a house that would end up releasing him. It was a shame. Such a shame… but she couldn’t have everything she wanted, and she needed to find a way to rope him into becoming a helper, and he’d likely be reluctant to a glorified bout of slavery. “However…” She paused, making sure to trail off as his eyes went over her.

“I mentioned needing help, and I’m assuming that you need some as well, a way to get out of hell--even if it’s only once in a while. There’s only so much I can do on my own, and I need…” She paused to go over her words, setting down her cup and shifting to her knees. He could judge all he wanted, but they were. Her chosen family was more important. “my magic is a… it’s uncontrollable at times, and people I care about might be caught in a self destructive crossfire. I need to be contracted to something of greater power, and I refuse to go for anything _ holy _, It’ll do nothing but tear me apart as it clashes with everything that I am. With the path I’ve gone they consider me too tainted to fix, which means I’m considered unworthy.”

She steeled herself before she made herself meet her eyes. “I would like to come to an agreement with you, to become contracted, and I refuse to let some lower runged being that I do not know of be in charge and have the potential to corrupt me.” She refused to be cowed, she had caught his interest, displayed some of her skill set to catch his interest, and now all she could do was hope that he would take the bait. She couldn’t let him unnerve her with silence at this point. She had to remain firm, and she had to… she couldn’t do this alone.

“I can’t risk hurting them. There comes a point where it is less about power, and more about control. I can give you some control over me, so long as you can help me keep from hurting them.”

She didn’t see how his cake disappeared, or how his hand went outside of the circle to swipe the rest of hers. Everything was blocked out as she kept his gaze, focusing on the eyes of someone who would eat her alive with no mercy, who looked at her not as someone with their own thoughts and feelings, but something like a tool.

He brushed crumbs from his mouth before he spoke, his voice layered with a charm she couldn’t identify in her petrified state. “Devote yourself to me, Miss Henrietta… Devote yourself to the most recent King of Hell, pray to me, leave me offerings, _ come only to me. _ No matter how small or troubling something is, you’re to call upon me should you need my help. If the other witchlings you hold dear can’t do anything...” He reached for her, clawed fingers cradling her face as he leaned closer, his breath brushing against her lips. “Summon me with the breath of those cigarettes you depend on so much, and allow me to wreak havoc, _ Henrietta _ .” His forehead pressed against hers before he continued, “Keep the name _ Damien Thorn _ on your lips.”

She couldn’t think of the strings that would be attached, she didn’t think of the consequences she may have to reap in her acceptance. All she knew was that he was close, and he was attractive. He was holding her much gentler than he could have, and he was out of the circle she had put so much effort into without a glance. He was giving her the illusion of choice… “I accept your terms, Damien.” It was like he was sucking all the air from her lungs by proximity, she wanted to be closer and drown in his gaze, to feel her very soul clasped in his hands with this gentleness.

Everything was moving so fast, and then his lips brushed against hers, and she felt the contract seal itself over. “I hope to see you again soon, my violet bud. I can’t wait to see how you bloom.”

She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, the only signs that he was ever there were the empty plates and the ghost of his hands on her face. Damien Thorn huh? It was just her luck, being bound to someone who had a missing persons report. At least things would be interesting from this point on. And if her interest was more than a little professional, well, no one else had to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Violets-Used in magic for spells pertaining to protection, peace, love, and healing.  
They tend to have a sweet and floral taste, and are typically used in desserts or as a decoration!
> 
> There's a reason they were in the cakes she served!


End file.
